


Make Love a Verb

by arituzz



Category: Carry On - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Accidental Spell, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Resolved Sexual Tension, Sexual Tension, Smut, Watford
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-31
Updated: 2017-05-31
Packaged: 2018-11-07 11:24:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11057931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arituzz/pseuds/arituzz
Summary: In which Simon has a lot of questions and Baz may or may not be too eager to answer them. (And maybe they get a bit carried away.)





	Make Love a Verb

**Author's Note:**

  * For [wematch](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wematch/gifts).



**NIALL**

Baz is getting soft; it’s been a long time since he last came up with a plan to piss Snow off, and I’m starting to worry. Dev says it’s just a phase.

But I say there’s something else.

We’re hiding inside the broom closet near Baz’s room so we can spy on him. “We could just talk to him,” Dev says from my right side in the darkness, his breath tickling my ear.

“Yes, I guess we could do that,” I say. “Or even better, we could use a spell on him.”

“Are you sure?” Dev asks, grabbing my wrist.

I nod. I hear Baz’s voice and open the closet door just enough to see him. “Crowley, he’s with Snow,” I say. “They seem to be fighting.”

“Niall, let’s just call it off,” Dev whispers.

“No way! We’re doing this. Now,” I say as I draw Dev’s hand away. I open the door a few centimeters more and point my magickal wristband at Baz as I cast the spell. But Snow, always the party pooper–consciously or not–chooses this precise moment to try and punch Baz. The spell hits him instead. “Well, fuck,” I say, inwardly cursing Snow.

Dev’s eye-roll is almost audible.

 

**BAZ**

I just barely manage to dodge Snow’s punch. “You’re so predictable,” I snap as I go inside the room just to infuriate him more. Crowley, I love fighting with him.

Snow is a statue outside the room.

I resist the urge to pull him closer and ask him what’s wrong. “What, Snow?” I say instead. “Have you finally run out of words?”

Snow hesitates for a few seconds before he finally steps in, closing the door behind him. “Baz,” he starts. “I– I don’t– I don’t want to fight you anymore.”

Well, that’s the last thing I expected him to say.

We’re standing before the door and I feel like maybe I should settle on my bed, but there’s something in Simon’s eyes that has me motionless.

“I, uhm. I think…” Snow looks down at his feet, as if they were telling him what to say, word by word. (Which seems plausible to me.)

“Oh, you think? That will sure surprise everyone,” I say, just to take the piss. I know Snow isn’t stupid; I know he can think. (Too much, sometimes.) “Spit it out, Snow.”

“I think I might need…” He’s still avoiding my eyes.

“Professional help?” I supply and take some satisfaction from the frown forming on his face.

“Love advice.”

No. I take it back. _That_ is the last thing I expected Snow to say to me. “And you’re telling me that because…?”

“Maybe you could help me?” He looks back up at me and it’s tempting to lose myself in his eyes. (Just one step.)

I ask, “Why would I do that?” He must be delusional if he thinks I’ll help him getting back with Wellbelove. I’m not _that_ self-destructive.

He looks away again. Yes, this is definitely real because my hands are quiet by my side. (Not turning his head around, allowing me to kiss the living shit out of him.)

“You know what?” he says. “Nevermind. Do you even know what love is?”

He catches me completely off guard because I answer, “Yes.”

“Prove it, then.” For a split second I believe he’s daring me to kiss him and I forget how to properly function. But he adds, “Tell me. What’s love like for you?”

I feel Snow’s breath on my face. When did we get this close? “Okay. Fine,” I cave in.

He looks surprised. “You’ll tell me?”

I can only nod. “Don’t make me regret it already,” I say. “Love… sucks.”

Snow’s look is heavy with expectation. “But?” he pries.

“That’s it, Snow,” I say. “Love fucking sucks. The end.”

“No. I don’t buy it,” he insists. I feel something warm touch my fingertips. “Tell me what you feel.”

I have to look down. But I regret it the moment I do–the warmth comes from Simon’s hand. Because I have absolutely no idea what to do with it.

So I snatch it away. And run to my bed.

Snow follows and sits on his own bed, facing me. He doesn’t say anything. I think he’s waiting for me to speak, to open up. Whatever. “Love is not a fucking pop song,” I say. “It’s not charming. It’s not _cute_.” I look up at him. “It feels more like a burden.”

“How is love a burden?”

Snow keeps looking at me, waiting for me to answer. So bloody stubborn. Well, fuck it. “Love is wanting to protect someone and ruin them at the same time,” I say, my eyes locked on Snow’s. “And the urge to feel them is so overwhelming that you’d rather punch them than…” I swallow the sudden dryness in my throat. “Than not touch them at all.”

Crowley, I can’t believe I said that out loud.

“You miss them.” Why am I still talking? “All the bloody time. Even when they are nearby. Or sitting at the same table. Or–” I feel more than see Snow standing up, which should make it harder to say what I’m going to say. (It doesn’t.) “Or sharing a room with you.”

I realize somewhere along my confession–because this is clearly a confession, right?–I closed my eyes. I decide I want to keep them shut.

“And you love them with everything you have,” I go on. “You love them so fucking much you hate them.”

“You hate them,” Snow says, like it’s a revelation. (I guess it is.)

“I do.” For some unknown reason my brain decided it’s the right moment to open my eyes. A Mistake. (Because Snow’s presence by itself is hard enough to handle.) (The corner of Snow’s lip curling up is heart-attack material.) “And then they smile, and I wish I could punch that smile away.” Snow looks momentarily confused. “With my own mouth,” I continue. He relaxes and steps closer. “And then I look away. Because if I don’t…”

“What?” he asks. I raise an eyebrow at him in questioning. “What happens if you don’t turn away?”

“Well. Then… Then you burn,” I say. Snow steps even closer. (His legs are right in front of me.) “I’d take his face into my hands,” I say and I imagine I actually do it. “And I’d lose myself in their eyes so hard that I could not be found again. But I wouldn’t give a fuck. Because nothing, absolutely nothing else in the world would matter. Only them and me.”

I estimate my brain capacity has decreased by 60% during this conversation. Why else would I still keep talking?

“I’d run my fingers through their hair, softly, like anything could break them,” I go on. “And then roughly, because I’d remember that nothing could,” I say. “And then softly again, just because.” Snow is not moving. “I’d kiss them and realize how overrated breathing is. Then, I’d break the kiss only to keep kissing them with my eyes.” I’m kissing him with my eyes.

Snow is… He’s kissing me with his eyes? (Maybe it’s just wishful thinking.)

Snow is not moving and I want him to move. So I say, “And then I’d be pressed up against them.” My heart is beating so fast and so loud I wonder if Snow can hear it. “And we’d be more sweaty and smoky, and I’d want to be violent and I’d want to be very soft,” I continue. “I’d want to make them know how much I’ve been craving them all this time.”

“Wow,” Snow says. “So, uhm. You’ve done it.”

“Done what?”

“Sex,” he says. “What’s it like?”

Fucking 90%. For Crowley’s sake, how has he not realized I’m talking about him? I continue, just to see where this takes me. “It’s like reading someone with your fingers. And your mouth. And your whole body.” (I haven’t the slightest idea.)

“Oh,” he says, and looks like he’s thinking about it. (I hope he is.) (I definitely am.) “So, how would you er… engage in, uhm, “ _you know”_ with someone? Like, start it. How do you do it?”

I still haven’t decided whether this is the best or the worst conversation I’ve had with Snow so far. Probably both. “Well, first you need to be close to them.”

“How close?”

Is he serious? “Very close,” I say.

“Like, this close?” he asks. (He hasn’t moved.)

So I move. “ _This_ close is better,” I say, standing up. Better is an understatement.

“Then what?” Snow says. This is the first time I’ve seen him this close. (If I don’t count the thousands of times I’ve seen him inside my head.)

“Then you wrap your arms around them,” I say, thinking: _Then you kiss me._

“Like this?” he says as he folds his arms around my neck. As he breaks into my chest, grabs my heart and squeezes it so hard it almost bursts.

“Yes. Or…” I settle my hands on the small of his back, deepening the embrace. “Or like this.”

Snow hums in agreement. “Do you, uhm…” he starts. “Do you, like, carry them? You know… to the wall? Their legs around your waist…”

100%: Short-circuit. Only because I’m fairly certain that I’ve slipped into a delusional state due to severe brain damage, I pick Snow up. He wraps his legs around me smoothly. “Definitely,” I say. And I carry him to the nearest wall.

Snow leans his back against the wall, his grip still tight on me. “So, what now?” he asks.

“Well, now usually comes the… main event. Getting naked, having sex… I’m sure you’ve heard of it.” I’m obviously _doing_ it with my eyes.

“And then what?”

“Then when?”

“What do you do after sex?”

“Then nothing.” I tell him. “I’d just stare at you, without saying anything,” I say, staring at him.

“Why?”

 _Because no spoken word could be better than the silent communication between the two of us_ , I say without speaking. That’s it, I’ve finally lost my mind. (I think I’m going to kiss him.)

Anyway, the mind is overrated.

“Baz,” he says. With his lips. Which are just a moment away.

“Simon…”

“Did you just say that you’d stare at _me_?” he asks, killing, fucking murdering the moment.

“No, I didn’t.” I let go of him. “Snow.”

“Yes?”

Snow has unconsciously started rubbing himself through his trousers. I smirk, because I can’t help it. “Do you need any help there?”

“Uh… No,” he says when he realizes what he’s doing. “Thank you for the uh– advice.”

The cruel thing that no one tells you about good moments–really good moments–is that they inevitably fucking end.

Snow rushes into the bathroom.

I let my back fall against the wall–the same one where Snow was just seconds ago–and slowly slide down to the floor until my knees are level with my chest.

I didn’t know it was possible to miss things that never happened.

 

**SIMON**

I just… thought about kissing Baz? (Okay, not just kissing.) It must be a spell. Baz is scheming again, that would make sense.

I should go out there and confront him.

But… why the fuck am I so turned on?

 

**BAZ**

There are moments in life when everything happens in slow motion. It seems you have all the time in the world to react, but your muscles just won’t move. So you stand still, watching the moment come to life, fucking paralyzed. Unable to do anything about it.

This is one of those moments.

The door of the bathroom opens and I look up. Snow steps out. Our eyes meet, and something inside me explodes. I’m pretty sure it’s my heart.

Snow comes closer and closer until he can’t go any farther without melting into me. So he does. He grabs a handful of my hair and pulls me closer to him; to his lips. And then we’re kissing.

At some point Snow makes me stand up and carries me to my bed. We don’t stop kissing.

I want to show him what love is, how it’s not only something you do but also something you can make. And I want to make it with him.

And he wants to make it with me.

Then everything happens too fast: Clothes are ripped off. Hair is grabbed. Breath is caught. Everything is skin and lips and Simon making glorious sounds.

It’s so good, and so hot; I think I could combust right now.

 

**SIMON**

When Baz said he wanted to get under my skin I never thought he meant it literally. I haven’t seen him like this before–moaning and writhing underneath me. Letting me ride him as we both come undone. _I’ve got you now_ , I think. _I’ve finally got you where I want_.

“Merlin, Baz. I love you,” I say, before kissing him again. I have no idea why I said that. The only thing I know is: It’s true.

Baz doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t have to. Because he’s staring at me and I just _know_. I wonder how long I’ve known.

I collapse on his bed beside him. If Baz thinks I’m ever leaving, he’s wrong. “So. That was…” I say.

He turns his head to look at me. “Yes.”

“How many times have you…?” I ask.

“Counting this time?”

“Yeah,” I say. “Counting this time.”

“That would be…” his hand looks for mine and starts playing with my fingers. “One time,” he says.

“What?”

“I said one time, Snow.”

“Yeah, I know what you’ve said, but I’m… I thought…” I don’t know what I was thinking. “I mean–”

I can’t finish the sentence because Baz’s mouth clashes against mine, violently. Then again, gently.

* * *

 

**BAZ**

I wake up to someone knocking on the door. I hear Snow in the bathroom, so I quickly slip on my clothes and go to answer..

“Baz,” Niall says as I open it. Dev is beside him. “Is Snow in there?”

What? Why are they looking for Snow? Do they know what happened…? “No,” I hurry to say. “Why would he be?”

Niall quirks an eyebrow at me. “It’s also his room?”  he says.

Fuck. That’s true. It’s too early for this. “What do you want?” I ask them.

Niall looks nervous. He’s fidgeting with his wristband, which could end really badly. (Nobody wants a repeat of the napkin incident.) “Did he say anything unusual to you yesterday?” he asks.

“Niall accidentally cast a spell on him,” Dev says.

“What?”

Dev continues, “Yeah it was actually aimed at you, but he got in the way…”

“Shut up, Dev,” Niall whispers to him.

“What was it?” I ask, failing to mask my rising concern. “What fucking spell did you cast on him?” The look I give Niall must be really threatening because his fidgeting increases. Fuck.

It’s Dev who answers, “The truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth.”

“Oh.”

“Baz?” Niall starts. “Look, I’m sorry we acted behind your back, okay?”

“No,” I say. “It’s fine. Actually…”

“Baz?” Snow materializes from inside the room and, to everyone’s dismay, he kisses me. “I’ll wait for you downstairs.”

“Well,” I say. I guess actions speak louder than words. (Snow’s roar rather than speak, but still.) “I have to go,” I tell them as I leave. “I’ll see you at breakfast.”

 

**NIALL**

I did _not_ expect this.

 

-FIN-

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!


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